


Burned Out

by Cerillen



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, And some of us like both, I kind of relate to grumpy grey Branch, It's a spectrum, Like, Not everyone feels happiness in the same way, So I enjoy exploring his character a bit, Some enjoy singing and dancing with friends, Some of us just like quietly chilling by ourselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerillen/pseuds/Cerillen
Summary: How far do you need to go to make everyone else around you happy?Becoming something you're not seems like a good place to start.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Burned Out

**Author's Note:**

> This may just continue with some properly written stuff after this bit of rambling introduction. Maybe.  
> It really depends on whether I feel like bothering or not.  
> So, we'll see.

Branch never actually gets his colors back.

After more than a year of being grey, he’d started to change.

The colorless grey he’d started with started to gain more depth and hue.

Bits of blue and purple and even some speckles of sparkle developing in the once dull and empty grey.

Even his hair seemed to darken from the deep grey it had been to a stark black.

And the clothes he wore stopped losing as much color when he put them on.

He wasn’t just grey anymore.

And he wasn’t entirely sure why.

He still wasn’t very happy.

He still didn’t want to sing or dance or hug everyone around him.

And his colors, though technically existent now, were still tremendously darker and duller than all of the other trolls.

He was still grey.

But something had changed.

He realized, a few weeks after the strange shift in his greyness, that he could change his hair color again.

It wasn’t long after that when he discovered that he could even change his skin as well.

This left him with a new option for himself.

He could pretend to be a normal troll again.

He could fake his colors and act just like everyone else and they probably wouldn’t even realize he was still unhappy.

But thinking about that only made him feel even more unhappy.

He didn’t want to pretend to be something he wasn’t.

He didn’t want to act like he was fine when he was actually fractured inside.

He didn’t want to give up on the ideals he’d built for himself.

So he simply accepted his new abilities and continued on with his life alone.

But then the Bergen attack happened.

And, suddenly, everyone was grey.

Greyer than himself, even.

Poppy was grey.

The bright pink ray of sunshine he’d gotten used to was now nothing more than a dull, colorless, despairing, little storm cloud.

And he needed to fix that.

Because Poppy wasn’t meant to be grey.

She wasn’t meant to be like him.

So he sang to her.

He sang, for the first time in twenty years, and danced and smiled and offered her his arms and hands to hold as much as she may want.

And he told her he loved her.

With full sincerity, he sang that he loved her and promised he’d be with her always.

And she started to light up again.

But that wasn’t enough.

He needed to make sure she’d stay colorful.

He needed to make sure she believed his words.

He needed to make sure she believed him.

And what better way was there than to pretend he’d gotten his colors back?

Sure enough, it worked.

He made himself bright blue and violet and Poppy lit up like the sun in response.

Just as he’d known she would.

And then they’d saved the day.

And everything was over.

And everyone went home.

And he collapsed into his bed with one of the loudest and most sincere groans he’d ever made while his false colors drained out of him.

He’d never had to hold his colors for so long before.

He hoped that he wouldn’t have to ever again.

It had been exhausting.

Unfortunately, it didn’t end there.

Poppy expected more from him now.

She wanted him to attend parties and festivals and celebrations.

She wanted him to help with problems and assist in projects.

She wanted to spend time with him and have him spend time with other trolls.

And he was, mostly, fine with that.

It was fun, spending more time with his best friend.

Even being a bit more open with everyone was easier now that he had her and the village’s acceptance.

Except it was never fully the truth.

His colors, his feelings, his opinions, his ideas.

Some of them were real.

But most of them were completely fake.

He still hated how loud everyone could get.

It made his sensitive ears ache and twitch and left him with horrible headaches when it got loud enough.

He still wasn’t a very big fan of super sweet things.

He’d gotten used to the blander, sourer, herbal, tastes of the things he found in the forest.

He still felt uncomfortable whenever anyone touched him.

Poppy was usually the exception, but even she could make him a bit uncomfortable after a while.

He still worried about the safety of the village.

Bergens weren’t the only things that liked to eat trolls, after all.

He still liked spending time alone in his bunker.

It was quiet and cool and safe and he could actually relax there.

And he still wasn’t honest about his feelings.

Because, if he was, then everyone would realize he was lying to them.

And he couldn’t risk that happening.

Everyone was so much happier and nicer to him, now that he seemed more like them.

Now that he wasn’t himself anymore.

He wasn’t surprised.

He’d known, from the beginning, that nobody liked him.

He was too mean, too grumpy, too worried, too strict, too quiet, too boring.

Too grey.

They didn’t want the real him.

They never had.

Even Poppy hadn’t.

She was so much happier now that he wasn’t grey.

Now that he was “happy”.

And he couldn’t bear the thought of taking that away from her.

No matter how much he hated what he’d become.

No matter how much he wished he could just be honest and tell her that this wasn’t really him.

No matter how much he wanted her to just accept him for who he is.

He knows that she wouldn’t.

He knows that she won’t.

So he keeps up the act.

He sings just as loud as everyone else, trying and failing to drown out the painful ringing in his ears.

He eats the super sugary sweets that everyone else loves, trying not to gag on how it seems to clog his throat and gnaw at his teeth.

He participates in hug time and never pushes anyone away, even when it feels like his skin is crawling and his body is burning from the contact.

He gets even sneakier with his traps and his patrols, even going so far as to take care of it all at night so that no one comes looking for him.

He spends almost all of his time within the village, builds a sort of façade of a living room for everyone to see when they visit his bunker, and tries to shake off the gross feeling he gets whenever he sees that strange and unnatural section of his home.

And he smiles and laughs and tells everyone, tells Poppy right to her face, that he’s happy now.

He’s fine now.

Everything’s so much better now.

He’s finally enjoying himself.

He doesn’t feel empty or broken anymore.

He’s fixed.

And he prefers this new version of himself.

Maybe, if he says that enough times…

It might actually become the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the work is the song "Burned Out" by dodie.  
> I feel it matches up with the sort of pressurized situation Branch ends up in here.  
> Being constantly pushed to be something he's not while just pretending he's fine because everyone loves him so much for being "the real him" and he just wants them all to be happy so he can't actually say anything to them out of fear of rejection.


End file.
